Right around Thanksgiving 15 years ago, things got a little out of hand for old Aaron Peck.
See, at the time, I was still, technically anorexic. Things had leveled off for me though. Sure, this particular psychological illness was still an issue for me, but I wasn't losing weight anymore. I was maintaining a solid 95 pounds, which, for awhile was good.
Apparently the pressures of entering high school began affecting me in much the same way being in middle school did. Slowly but surely, those maintained pounds began to slide off. My weekly weigh-in sessions at the therapist's office were becoming more and more depressing.
As I took this turn for the worse, my options were discussed. I knew that a time was coming when I would be forced to do something I wouldn't want to do. In a word: hospitalization.
The Sunday before Thanksgiving, I was showering before church. As I washed my hair, it was coming off my head between my fingers. This is a common problem among people with eating disorders. As the body lacks the nutrients it needs to remain healthy, it starts shutting down unnecessary functions, one of those being hair growth.
I broke down. I decided then that I would make the call. I would fall on the sword and voluntarily go into a hospital for treatment. I knew that if I didn't, the doctors would talk my parents into admitting me anyway.
I talked it over with my family and later my counselor, and we determined that after Thanksgiving I would go into a psychiatric hospital to receive treatment for my eating disorder. Next stop: St. Alban's Hospital in Radford.